Circle Scapegrace was something special, and it was only a matter of time before the rest of the world saw that.

  I was half annoyed and half resigned when the text came through from Lorcan, apologizing for not being able to attend the meeting. Apparently, there was another emergency at work. A cracked tooth, and a great deal of pain for someone’s sweet old mum, or some other sob story. He also sent along a picture of him at work doing an awkward selfie with one of the hygienists, no doubt so I wouldn’t wonder if he was telling me the truth. In the background, I could see the computer screen, with today’s date and time in the corner, so I knew it was a photo he’d just taken.

  It didn’t make any sense. Lorcan was going to such lengths to avoid me, or at least that was very much what it felt like, but he was also practically sending me a documentary to prove just where he was at all times. It would have been sweet, if it wasn’t so aggravating. I knew he wasn’t stepping out on me, no matter what I’d thought when that vampire hag had come sniffing around. Lorcan just wasn’t the type.

  That didn’t make not knowing what was going on one ounce less frustrating, of course.

  I shut my car door, maybe a little harder than strictly necessary, and turned to head up the steps. Only to be stopped by a nasally little voice with the fakest British accent this side of prime-time television.

  “You’re late.”

  My eyes narrowed, and I glared at the black cat that had arranged himself sitting upright like a sentinel on the porch banister. His tail was lashing, and he tipped his head back in an attempt to look down his nose at me.

  “Hellcat,” I said, my voice sweet enough to choke on. “I called the coven together. It’s my meeting. I can’t be late.”

  His own eyes turned into dangerous, spiteful little slits. “And yet, you’ve somehow managed to inconvenience everyone, anyway. You never fail to disappoint.”

  I stalked up the porch steps, blowing past my increasingly irritating familiar. “You know, maybe it’s about time you started living outdoors? There would be plenty of mice and rats out in the woods for you to subside on.”

  He whirled around, tail puffing up as he yowled in outrage. “You wouldn’t dare, you pox addled strumpet!”

  “Keep pushing, Hellcat.” My heels made a satisfying sound against the porch as I stalked towards the door. “Keep pushing and I’ll toss you into the woods myself. Off the balcony.”

  I took a great deal of satisfaction closing the door in his spiteful little face.

  The hallway was cluttered with coats, but no one was waiting for me. I could hear voices further in, towards the main room of the house. It was a little too warm out to light the enormous fireplace that dominated a whole wall of the great room, but someone had gone around lighting candles. Enough to bathe the place in a warm, golden glow, but kept the shadows thick in the corners. It felt very witchy, light and dark, and some of the tension in my shoulders relaxed.

  I stood by the concept that I couldn’t be late to a meeting that I’d called, no matter what Hellcat said. But it did look like almost everyone was already present and chatting amongst themselves.

  Olga, originally from Germany and a potion instructor for Blood Rose Academy, who had been abducted and imprisoned by my mother for the crime of falling in love with the wrong men far, far too easily, was sitting on the long couch facing the cold fireplace. She was knitting something, of all things. Soft blue wool spooled down to a ball on the floor, where her familiar, a raccoon named Franz, batted at it sleepily.

  Sitting next to her was Betanya, who was the oldest member of the coven, even including the years she’d spent in suspended animation, hiding beyond the veil from the vampire, Roscoe, who’d been determined to turn her. He’d managed to change her into a Blood Witch and got her kicked out of her original coven for it, before she’d fled to Haven Hollow, and eventually beyond even that. We’d busted her out once we’d learned she was still alive, and then we’d taken care of Roscoe, who was barely more than a feral animal at that point. The good news was, with Roscoe gone, Betanya had been cured of being a Blood Witch, and she had settled into Scapegrace very well. To the point that, to the outside world, she was the acting High Witch.

  Which didn’t grate at me. At all.

  Betanya’s familiar, Willie-Ray the skunk, was curled up on a cushion. He was furled so tightly into a bun that all I could see was his stripey tail and the plaid of his sleeveless flannel work shirt that he always insisted on wearing. It was still better than the lederhosen Franz usually had on. I never thought I’d appreciate my familiar being a nudist.

  Imani, our newest member and a transplant from New Orleans, was lighting the last of the candles around the room. The flames reflected off her face and made her dark skin shine. She was grinning, halfway to laughing at something Maverick had said as she slipped past the stairs to the second floor to get the last few candles on the sideboard.

  Maverick, in turn, was scowling. It wasn’t an unfamiliar look on my cousin’s face, to be sure. I was surprised the expression hadn’t sprouted roots a long time before, quite frankly. But this was actually his Imani scowl, which he didn’t mean at all, and was only turning his mouth down that hard to keep himself from smiling. I could tell from the way his brows were pinched together over his nose that he was about to pop a stitch if he didn’t laugh soon.

  “I’ve only just got some length back to my hair, and now you want me to cut it,” Maverick groused, complaining without any heat.

  Imani’s laughter pealed like bells. She laughed without any self-consciousness, throwing her head back, lit up with joy. “I don’t mean a buzz cut, Mav. I’m just saying, you could do something fun with it. Now that you aren’t dragging around that awful little Boy Blue hairstyle.”

  Maverick glared. “That was hardly my choice. Besides, what would I even do? It’s hair.”

  Imani staggered, one hand clutched to her chest like she’d been shot through the heart. “It’s hair? Mav, seriously?” She tossed her own waist-length, gorgeous coils over her shoulder and plunked her fists onto her hips. “You could do anything. From a trim, to putting some layers in it, to some highlights.”

  Maverick pinched a lock of his ink dark hair between his thumb and forefinger and gave her a dubious look. “Highlights?”

  “Sure, why not?” Imani tapped her finger to her lower lip, her eyes gleaming. “Or you could even go full blond if you wanted. A nice beachy wave for the summer!”

  Maverick sputtered, his face turning red, either from irritation or embarrassment, it was hard to tell. “Blond? No warlock is blond.”

  Completely unrepentant, Imani continued. “You could be the first! Come on, Isis, he could pull off blond, right?”

  Maverick’s familiar, a mid-sized owl who was perched on the modified coat rack in the corner, gave a low hoot and clicked her beak towards him.

  “See?” Imani whooped. “Isis agrees with me.”

  Maverick waved his hands in the air, like he could erase the entire conversation. “No, absolutely not. There will be no blonde.”

  Imani tapped her lip again. “Hmm, what about–”

  “No.” Maverick pointed one long finger in her direction. “No. Whatever you’re thinking, just, no.”

  It was good to see Maverick getting along with literally anyone who wasn’t Taliyah, but the weird frenemy situation he had with Imani always made me shake my head. They got on like a bonfire and wood, but when Imani had first joined the coven, I’d thought they might actually get down to blows. Instead, they became whatever the evil version of besties was. Worsties.

  With me there, we were only missing Poppy, and that was a little odd. Poppy was one of those irritatingly cheerful people who thought that not being fifteen minutes early to a meeting was being late. I was surprised that I’d beaten her to the Coven house. Maybe she’d gotten caught up at work?

  I checked my phone and found a text message from her.

  I’m so sorry, Wanda. I can’t make it tonight. I’m not feeling very well.

  Well, that was alarming for several reasons. For one thing, Poppy didn’t miss meetings. She was so tickled pink to be included in an actual coven, something a magical human normally would never be able to do. But also, because there wasn’t a single emoji in the text.

  Chapter Ten

  Maybe it was a symptom of having a teenage child, but Poppy was always sending these little, annoying pictographs in her texts. And I’d have to spend way too much time deciphering what I was reading—like understanding hieroglyphics.

  The message was odd enough in and of itself, but not a single little floating heart? Something was wrong.

  I stepped back out of the great room before any of the others had even noticed I was there. I only went as far as the hallway before I was dialing Poppy’s number.

  It took three rings for her to pick up, and I was already planning out what I would do if it went to voicemail, because I was ready to drive over to her farmhouse if she didn’t answer. Maybe the text was a coded message meant to alert me to something?

  But then the line picked up and a dull, almost unidentifiable voice croaked, “Hello?”

  “Poppy? Is that you?” the phone creaked in my grip. I’d never heard her sound like that before.

  The little laugh that slipped out had my pulse slowing back down to reasonable ranges. That was definitely a Poppy laugh.

  “Yeah, it’s me. Who else would it be?”

  “You just—don’t sound like you.”

  “Oh. I’m so sorry about not being there tonight, Wanda, but I’m feeling really sick. I think it’s the flu. My whole-body aches.”

  “Hmm, sounds like the flu,” I said, like a liar, because I was a witch and had never even had a sniffle in my life that wasn’t brought on by a crying jag. “Do you need something?”

  “I should be okay.” I heard cloth rustle as she shifted, and then a low groan. “Finn is making me soup, so we’ll see how that goes.”

  It was incredible how someone could sound cheerful and dubious at the same time.

  “Tell him to call me if you need anything for any reason. I’m sure I could find someone to drop something off, if need be.” I folded my arms, trying to sound aloof.

  “I could try to make it.”

  “No,” I nearly barked. “You just rest. You wouldn’t be of any use here anyway, not in your condition.”

  “Thanks, Wanda,” she said, and her tone was actually sincere instead of sarcastic. Intolerable. “Andre is going to come by and give Finn a hand with things while I’m resting. I think we’ll be okay.”

  Well, that was alright, then. I knew Finn would do his best. He was as gratingly compassionate as his mother, but he was still only fifteen, a veritable infant. He couldn’t be expected to do it all himself.

  Andre was alright. He was human, but he was also a Magician, and another one of those disgusting do-gooder types. He was also Poppy’s soulmate, literally, so I supposed that he might actually be good enough for her. I was keeping an eye on him, though, because Poppy hadn’t exactly had the best luck in her love life to date, and I wasn’t about to stand back and watch her get hurt. Not while I was around.

  Though, if the universe itself thought Andre was her match, well. I’d give him a chance.

  “Alright,” I said, and I absolutely did not sound reluctant. “But I’m only a text message away.”

  The laugh that echoed down the line was weaker than normal, a bit threadbare, but still Poppy. “I’ll remember.”

  I hung up the phone and stowed it away. Honestly, friends could be so needy. It was always something or another. The urge to go and physically check on Poppy was as strong as it was annoying.

  Imani passed by the door to the great room and caught sight of me. “Oh, Wanda, there you are.”

  “Here I am.” I stepped back into the room and faced the gathered coven. Well, most of it.

  “Vhat eez eet you need us for?” Olga gently took her yarn away from Franz, who gave a creepily high-pitched little giggle. She set the rest of her knitting down to focus.

  Betanya had turned towards me, too, Maverick was leaning against the fireplace mantel, looking brooding and Byronic, and I absolutely would have made fun of him for it on any other day. Sadly, I had other things to worry about at the moment.

  I hefted the plastic shopping bag in which I’d stashed what was left of the silk when I’d grabbed it from the shop. “I need you all to help me take a look at something.”

  ***

  There was something so special about doing a full circle ritual. Maybe it was the gravitas of the fire, of being outside with the night sky overhead and the moon looking down on us. The breeze in the trees in the back yard, or the incense that Betanya had tossed into the fire, mixing the smoke with a heavy sweetness.

  Maybe it was just that, when I first became a Blood Witch and was kicked out of the Crescent Circle Coven, I thought I might never have this again. A coven was a huge part of being a witch. We were always stronger together, and the coven bonds meant that we could boost one anothers power, in times of need. A coven meant community, teaching, guidance, support.

  At least, in theory.

  That was the ideal. That was what I’d wanted to build in my own coven. In practice, most covens had a tendency to devolve into vicious backbiting, jockeying for power, and a whole lot of prejudice.

  So, it meant a lot to take my seat by the fire, and have the others sit with me; a former Blood Witch, a disgraced teacher, a current Blood Witch, and even a Blood Warlock, alongside Imani, who was powerful in her own right and could have gone to any coven she chose, but she came to us because she believed in what we were trying to build here. It meant everything.

  It was still hard for me to ask for help. For a long time, admitting to not understanding something was to open myself up to ridicule, or even a loss of status in the coven. I was the High Witch, but here I was, going to the others because I didn’t have one clue what the spell was going on in this town.

  Trust. That was what it came down to.

  So, I gently took the silk, what was left of it anyway, from its plastic bag, and I laid it on the bare earth by the firepit.

  Mostly, everyone looked confused. Maverick, who had at least some idea of what was going on, made a face like he smelled something rancid.

  “Wow.” He shook his head at the sad little pile of silk scraps and threads. “How much did Rowe pay for that again?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I mumbled, and cleared my throat. “The short story is that he bought the silk at an auction. I cut it for a pattern, and it started decaying and falling apart within seconds. Before that, it was enchanted with protection magic. So, I want to know what is up with it and why this happened.”

  I hesitated. I didn’t know anything, that was the problem. I had suspicions, but they were just shy of ridiculous. Why would an ancient piece of cloth be connected to a curse that was killing people in town? It didn’t make any sense, and I didn’t have any proof, except for an odd bit of magical sensory issues.

  I didn’t want to sway anyone with my theories.

  But they also couldn’t help without all the information.

  This honesty stuff was irritating as hell. I blamed Poppy.

  “There’s more.” I chewed my lower lip, rolling the skin between my teeth.

  Maverick’s brows flew up at the tell, and I forced myself to stop. I didn’t need him knowing how anxious I was about this.

  The wind picked up, and the fire guttered before flaring up. I had to slap my hand down on the silk to keep it from blowing away. The sticky feeling of the threads made me want to go wash my hands.

  It was about trust.

  With the moon shining down, gilding the grass and trees in silver, it was easier to breathe. Out in the yard, backing onto the forest, it was easier to relax, to pull the night air into my lungs, and bask in the presence of the Goddess.

  “Maverick knows about this already, at least partly.” I paused, picking my words carefully. All I had were hunches, after all. I didn’t want to present all of it like it was facts.

  “There have been two deaths in Haven Hollow so far, and I can’t get into the specifics about those deaths because it’s an active investigation,” I hurried to add when Maverick opened his mouth to protest. He was very protective of his job of acting as Taliyah’s magical backup. Then again, it was as rare for Taliyah to trust someone, really trust them, as it was for me to.

  Maybe rarer.

  “The point is that two people have died, and a third came very, very close to it. I have reason to believe that the deaths, and the almost death, are related. And I can’t help but be extremely suspicious that the first death happened on the night that I first cut into the silk.”

  There were a lot of puzzled looks around the circle, and people exchanging glances. Maverick’s eyes were narrowed, and he watched the pile of silk like it might jump up and bite someone. When the shadows cast by the fire flickered, his fingers flexed like he was ready to cast.

  What a sad state of affairs my life was when the fact that Maverick believing me instantly made something soft flutter in my chest.

  Get it together, Wanda.

  Betanya frowned. “What makes you think the two things are related?”

  It was a very neutral question. She wasn’t being dismissive, which was a relief. I still had the reflexive feeling of defensiveness when an older witch questioned me, but Betanya was obviously just asking for clarification. That was fair enough.

  “This is going to sound stupid,” I warned them. “I know that. Even I think it’s foolish. But I had a chance to look over the young woman who was almost the third victim, and the magic was this sticky, greedy, clinging thing. Getting it off her was like peeling strand after strand of spider web off a fly. And, well…”

  I pressed my hand down onto the silk again, and when I Iifted it, my palm still flat towards the ground, a bunch of the loose threads had stuck fast, only letting go when gravity got the better of them.